


To the Indifferent Stars

by ObliObla



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Devil Face (Lucifer TV), F/M, Full Devil Bod, Hell, Mild Kink, Oral Sex, Post-Season/Series 04, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 10:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20044831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla
Summary: It was raining softly on the city the first time Chloe let Lucifer undress her.Lucifer Bingo prompt: dream





	To the Indifferent Stars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emynii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emynii/gifts).

> A Dream of Death
> 
> I dreamed that one had died in a strange place  
Near no accustomed hand,  
And they had nailed the boards above her face,  
The peasants of that land,  
Wondering to lay her in that solitude,  
And raised above her mound  
A cross they had made out of two bits of wood,  
And planted cypress round;  
And left her to the indifferent stars above  
Until I carved these words:  
_She was more beautiful than thy first love,_  
_But now lies under boards._  
-W.B. Yeats

It was raining softly on the city the first time Chloe let Lucifer undress her, slipping off her shoes and kicking them under the piano bench. His expression was hesitant, but his hands were sure and warm on her waist, trailing up her back and down her legs. The clothing hit marble with a whisper of fabric, and she watched him, dark against the golden light behind the bar, as he knelt in front of her.

“I have to leave again,” he whispered.

“Touch me,” she said.

He took her hips in his hands gently, leaning forward to brush his lips over her thighs, but she tangled her fingers in his hair and pulled, impatient with uncertainty and the heat of the desire banked in his eyes.

He hissed under his breath and kissed her belly, splaying one hand over her stomach, the other painting fire up the back of her legs. A breeze drifted through the open balcony doors, and she shivered, but he nipped at her hipbone and a rush of warmth shot through her as her eyes fell closed.

His fingertips slipped down to tease her curls, and her fingers tightened in his hair. He hummed against her and kissed down her inner thigh. Her pulse spiked between her legs, and her hips canted forward involuntarily.

He chuckled against her skin, his solemnity seemingly forgotten in such simple joys.

“Come _on,_” she muttered, trying to press more firmly against his fingers, against his mouth, but he pulled back. Her eyes snapped open, and she glared down at his smirk. “Lucifer, I—”

He pressed a kiss to her clit, tongue sweeping out to taste.

She shuddered, and his hand moved to her back to support her as he licked at her with slow, sweeping strokes, sending shocks of pleasure echoing through her body. She rocked against his face, and he encouraged her, dropping his jaw to graze the edge of teeth against her. A thousand phantom touches were met with a real embrace, and each of them redoubled the feeling. The rain intensified, and she let her eyes shut again, trusting he wouldn’t let her fall.

Light shot across her vision as petrichor flooded her mind, but both were lost to the blood thrumming and pounding in her ears, discrete sensations blurring in the rhythm and the sparking of synapses.

He moaned against her, and she clung to his head as to an anchor in a storm, short, sharp sounds leaving her throat in a rush of gratified desire. She had wanted and wanted and _wanted_, and there, between panting breaths, she found what she’d been seeking.

She choked on a groan as the pressure peaked, swaying on the spot. But she was caught by gentle hands that burned brands into her skin even as the sweat on her brow cooled, and she slowly drifted back to a semblance of reality.

When she came back to herself, he was waiting on his knees, and she tugged him to his feet. He was still fully clothed—hair a mess, chin glistening—and she pulled him down to kiss. It was the first time since the balcony, since he’d left, but none of his tenuous distance remained to him, and a soft noise was torn from his throat when their lips touched.

“I missed you,” she said simply when they broke apart, foreheads pressed together, not willing to be any further apart even as his belt buckle coldly grazed her stomach.

He brushed their noses together and entwined their fingers. “It was such a long time, down in the dark.”

“But you’re here now.”

“Yes.” He kissed her again, licking against her teeth, and mouthed over her jaw and down her throat, biting carefully at the skin where neck met shoulder.

She pushed him away playfully, but sobered. “I want to see you,” she said softly.

He nodded and pulled off his jacket, throwing it over the piano lid, reaching for his shirt buttons, but she stopped him with her hands on his at his collar.

“That’s not what I meant.”

He tilted his head. “You want…?”

“I don’t want you to have to hide who you are.”

He frowned. “You’re certain?”

She pulled his hands down to cup her breasts. “I want to know you, in any way I can.”

He inhaled sharply, and his fingers tightened ever so slightly. He blinked deliberately, and somewhat reticent sparks ignited in the depths of his eyes.

She gasped, and he made to pull away, but she grabbed his wrists and kept them where they were. “I’m not afraid.”

“But—”

“I want this. Do you trust me?”

“_Yes_,” he whispered, and she was reminded, suddenly, of a cabin, of an axe, of a vow.

The shift started slowly, raw, flayed flesh peeking out from collar and cuffs, his eyes blazing brighter as short claws cut from his fingertips. With a raucous _snap_ the buttons of his shirt fell to the floor as spikes emerged from his back and tore the fabric, the ripping loud over the sound of the rain.

She watched as he grumbled a little, pulling the shirt the rest of the way off and frowning at it. It was easier, now, to see the face she knew in a more ravaged countenance. The set of his jaw, his soft lips, his proud nose and sharp cheekbones…they were all intact.

He looked up at her with not insubstantial fear, and she took his free hand, bringing it up to her lips to kiss.

“You’re beautiful,” she said simply, though it was, she could admit, a darker beauty. One made more precious by its wild fragility.

“Detective…”

“I love you.”

He blinked and smoothed his hand over her waist. They looked, as one, at the contrast of scorched flesh with pale skin, but, when she didn’t flinch or move away, some of his confidence seemed to return to him. Roughened hands gripped at her, raising gooseflesh up her arms and down her chest, peaking her nipples and making her groan.

He was taller like this, broader, his strength far less contained, and the differences unbalanced her. But she reached for him to make the vision real, running her fingertips along the outline of his ribs and the hollows beneath them, finding them softer than she’d imagined, and flush with his warmth. He shuddered when her fingers trailed down to his belt, unfastening it. She pressed her palm down against him, and his hips jerked.

He hissed in a breath, and his eyes flashed. “_Chloe_.”

She cupped him, feeling his cock twitch under the attention, and pressed her body against him, reaching up with her free hand to touch the spikes along his spine. There was a soft noise and a rush of air, and she looked up; great leathern wings were fluttering in the air.

“My apologies,” he muttered, face flushing russet. He rolled his shoulders, clearly intending to withdraw the wings, but she traced her fingertips up over where they met his back. and he froze.

“Leave them out?” she asked.

He blinked again, but nodded, and she raked her nails against one wing. He bucked, suddenly, and growled, the sound slipping over her skin like thunder, shooting down as lightning to make her pulse and grind against his still clothed leg. She kissed everything she could reach—his chest, his stomach, his hips—trailing down to mouth at his waistband. He tasted of salt and iron, sharp and brilliant on her tongue. He kicked off his shoes as she knelt, as he had, to pull off his socks and unbutton his pants.

“Wait,” he said roughly.

She stopped and flattened her palms against his strong thighs. “Are you alright?”

He frowned. “The-the burns, they…”

“It’s okay.” She slowly reached for the button again, giving him time to move away, but he only watched as she unfastened it, pulling the zipper, taking down the trousers.

There was an interminable moment of stillness, then, when they were both finally naked, in a darkness fall deeper than a night covered up with clouds. There was a fire that burned without light, and there was a tremulous, boundless drop.

And they were falling.

She could see the depths of lost glory and twisted grace in his eyes, in the lines of his body and face, and she couldn’t look away. He shone in shadow and starlight, and she stood, reaching out to embrace the blaze.

They crashed together like the rain meeting the earth, her legs wrapping around his waist, his hands in her hair, tugging her head back to kiss her throat; down her back, carefully scratching her skin; on her hips, pulling her forward as she took him in hand.

She trailed her fingers up to the tip, and he moaned breathlessly, his head falling to her shoulder. He held her up with one hand, the other drifting up to pinch at her nipples as he sucked a mark into her neck, his tongue darting out to taste the tender flesh.

She gripped the curve of his wings and raised herself, rubbing over his hardness. She was wet, from his mouth, from the heat of him so close, and she shuddered at the slip and glide. The strangeness of it, the ridges where fire had toughened and refined, pressed against her, but it only made her grind harder into him.

He abandoned her breasts to press into her, and they sighed together at the first push, her muscles stretching smoothly. His wings fluttered and tightened around her, the soft skin supporting her. She leaned back and relaxed, feeling him slip deeper and deeper inside.

Her hands settled on his chest, and he hummed, low enough to vibrate up her arms and make her clench. He groaned from the pressure, and his hips jerked up, sending a shockwave through her. Her eyes shut, mouth falling open, and she breathed shallowly.

She felt his fingers—so strong in one moment, so gentle in the next—brush her hair from her face. He traced her lips with his fingertips and leaned forward to lick into her mouth. The change in angle made her gasp into his kiss. He moaned loudly and spun them, hips bucking as he pressed them against one of the columns that framed the entrance to his bedroom, his hand bracing on it.

They panted against each other’s lips, but the intensity didn’t slow as it had before, his hips instead snapping into hers with increasing speed. She grabbed his wings again to pull herself contrary to his motion, the rhythm wild and untempered.

“Lucifer, Lucifer, _Luci_—” Her voice rose and she clenched, hard, around him.

He grunted, his fingers scraping against the stone, and she heard it crumble from the force even as he redoubled his efforts, every stroke pressing against where she was most sensitive.

She tightened further, words bleeding into an inconstant whine. As she met the verge, her eyes flew open, and she saw the flames twisting in his irises, the light behind them blazing like the hearts of stars. She reached down to where they were joined and touched them both, dragging him over the edge to join her.

A gust of cool air broke over them as they stared at each other, panting. She shivered and hummed as he pulled away, hypersensitive, her legs and shoulders gloriously sore.

“Like the sun over the mountains after an endless night,” he said softly. “Chloe, I… _Chloe_.”

He’d never said her name so often, and every touch of his tongue to the word set her blood alight with desire. Even now, so recently satiated, she found herself still unsated. “_Lucifer_,” she said—a benediction, a promise.

He carried her easily up the stairs to the bed. The sheets were cool against her back when he laid her down among the pillows. He kissed her briefly before standing. “I’ll only be a moment.”

She watched the muscle in his back and legs move as he walked to the bathroom, withdrawing his wings to avoid scraping against the walls. The bedroom’s balcony doors were open, and the rain was coming down in sheets, whipping through the air. The breeze smelled faintly of the wildfires that still burned on the outskirts of the city, slowly being smothered by the first real rain of autumn.

She stood on mostly steady legs and walked to the edge, reaching out over open air to feel the cool water hit her skin. She pressed her face into the rain for a moment, tasting it tart and sweet on her tongue. The city lights painted the sky the tumultuous red-orange of flame, of Lucifer’s eyes when she turned around to find him watching her from the threshold.

The washcloth in his hands looked strangely delicate when he offered it. She took it and stepped past him, sitting on the edge of the bed to roughly clean herself, part of her trying to erase such tender touch with one far less gentle. She dropped the cloth on the floor and looked down at it, its stains and discoloration abruptly turning her stomach. Clothes, she needed her clothes. She wrapped her arms around her chest, feeling cruelly exposed.

“Are you alright?” he asked from behind her.

“How long?” She turned to look at him. He was still the Devil—_he was always the Devil_—but the fires in his eyes had banked to a dull scarlet.

“Sunrise,” he said flatly. He ran his fingertips over the stone above his headboard, seemingly absorbed by the wheel carved into it.

“How often?” Her voice was so cold she hardly recognized it, all the passion of a few minutes ago extinguished with the heat in his gaze.

“This night.”

“Once a year?”

He nodded slowly, looking back down at her.

She thought to ask why, but, as if by some sort of dream logic—though this was, as far as she knew, no dream—she knew not to. She bit her lip. In that moment her future was spread out before her, and she found herself choking on its bitterness. “It might be easier if you didn’t.”

“It might,” he agreed, and the blandness in his tone enraged her.

“Don’t you _care_?” she asked roughly.

He growled, and she was reminded that he wasn’t the tamed creature he sometimes appeared to be. There were flames leaping in his eyes again as he straightened. “_Yes_.”

Incensed, she stood on the bed, stomping across the concerningly slick sheets to loom over him. “Then _act_ like it.”

His expression crumpled for a split second, before he yanked her off the bed and kissed her, biting at her lips nearly brutally. She paid his viciousness back in kind, reaching down to take him roughly in hand and stroke him back to hardness. He was so eager, it took little time, and she tried to guide him to her again. Instead, he made to lay her on the bed, but she grunted and hooked her leg behind his, dragging them both to the sheets. She grabbed the largest of the spikes on his back to pull herself on top of him while he knelt, struggling to stand.

“This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Detective,” he hissed into her ear as she wrapped her legs around his hips.

“Shut up, Lucifer.” She took his ravaged skull in her hands and brought their lips together in the barest semblance of a kiss, tasting blood, scratching at his scalp.

He grabbed her ass in both hands and pulled her onto him, thrusting shallowly. She groaned into his mouth and pushed him away, his hands slipping behind him to brace against the bed. She ground down further, taking control of their rhythm.

He glared at her, his eyes sparking an inferno, and she moaned wantonly, wishing for the wings again for leverage, but settling for his incalescent shoulders.

“Found a little kink of yours, have I?” he asked far too smugly. He flashed his eyes again, and she fell forward, resting her forehead against his heaving chest.

He hummed, hips jerking out of time. “I should have known you were—”

“Shut _up_.” She clenched around him deliberately, bearing down, and his words were drowned out by a shameless moan high in his throat. He pulsed hard within her as he regained control over himself, and she bit her lip, her eyes slipping closed as a wave of pleasure broke over her.

He bucked up into her, and she ceded control, moving with him as the sensation built, much too fast, but she found herself incapable of slowing down. A tightness was growing below her belly, and her feet scrambled against the sheets as she sought a better angle.

“Don’t stop, don’t stop, _don’t stop_,” she chanted, reaching down to rub desperately at her clit with short, sharp motions. She was still sensitive, and it nearly hurt, but she relished the slight pain.

He gritted his teeth and rose onto his knees, pitching them forward, further onto the bed. She brought her leg up as his strokes lengthened with the new position, his hand clenched in a fist by her head. She clung to him, back arching, surrounded by his heat.

Fire swept up the cracks of his face, and it was, in that moment, the only light in the darkness as an errant crack of thunder echoed in her ears, and her sight whited out in a vision of the violent contrast of light and shadow, angel and Devil, Heaven and Hell, with the Earth lost in between.

When Chloe dragged herself back to awareness, Lucifer was sitting on the edge of the bed, returned to his angelic appearance, curled in on himself, light reflecting from his dark, somewhat vacant eyes.

She sat up, pulled herself alongside him, and sighed. “Lucifer, I—”

“I don’t want to stay away,” he muttered under his breath, barely audible over the slowly abating rainstorm. “But how am I supposed to keep…?” He trailed off, wrapping an arm around her, pressing his lips to her shoulder.

She sniffed, resting her head against his, running her fingers through his short-cropped curls. Summer had been long and harsh without him, without, even, a message, and she hadn’t truly expected, when the Halloween festivities ended and she returned, as she often did, to the penthouse, that he would be there waiting for her. She wiped at her face with the back of her hand.

“If it’s easier—” She inhaled sharply. “If you can’t come back, I’ll…understand. I’ll be okay.” She was intensely grateful, sometimes, for her ability and willingness to lie.

“Is that what you desire?” he asked, voice muffled against her skin, his breath warm and unnervingly comforting.

She pulled away to look him in the eye. “I want you _here_, for as long as I can have you,” she said with as much determination as she could manage. “But I also want you safe.”

He frowned.

She shook her head. “Your heart shouldn’t break on my behalf.”

He took her hand and pressed it against his chest; she could feel his heart beat, strong and insistent against her fingertips. “There is no shattering I wouldn’t accept to be graced with your touch.” He looked down at their hands. “But I don’t know if I have the strength to keep putting myself back together.”

As they sat in silence, she mourned the loss of every minute; they had so few that wasting even a moment seemed anathema. But she had no answers for him—didn’t even have any for herself—so she stayed quiet, leaning into his side again.

When he looked back at her, his eyes were shining with something less than hellfire. The rain had stopped, and it was this truer stillness that he broke. “I love you, you know.”

“I know,” she whispered, feeling the specious serenity strain with the words.

“I-I can’t imagine not seizing every moment we might have, not after how many we’ve—” He hissed in a breath. “How many we’ve already lost.”

She nodded and pulled her hand from his to trail over his chest and down his stomach. “Then let’s not waste any more time.” She kissed him, then, kissed him with all the things she didn’t have the words to say.

He hummed deep in his chest and pulled her into his lap, tangling a hand into her hair, painting her back with his warmth and his love.

They fell to the bed together, and every kiss was a covenant, every touch a deeper vow. That there were horrors in the dark, and cruel loss in the day, but, in the quieter moments of dawn, there might be a true peace, however fleeting.

He kissed the back of her neck as they moved together on the bed, legs entwined, hands clasped on her stomach, the pace tender and slow. There was such little time, really, but they would pretend to have all the time the desired, would pretend that so many questions hadn’t gone unanswered, that the future was both more nebulous and far better known.

They put their faith in each other—as Heaven and Hell deserved none of it—patiently sealed with each soft moan and every aching movement, a dance as full of grace and glory as the stars in their celestial motion. The only fire in the dark was what they made between themselves, but it was brighter for its ephemerality, and warmer than any empyreal flame.

And when the sun rose and Chloe awoke to a bed made cold by absence, she touched her fingertips to the soft indent in the mattress, and let the tears carry her faith and her love down into the depths of boundless darkness.


End file.
